The valley lay in silence, a heavy, reverent quiet that seemed to wrap around every corner of the battlefield. The demon army that had filled the plain just moments before was gone—destroyed, scattered, or fled into the mountains. All that remained were the wreckage of war and the stillness that followed the storm.
War machines lay shattered across the earth, their broken frames silent witnesses to the violence that had unfolded. Catapults split in two, their wooden beams splintered and useless. Giant ballistas broken, their iron bolts scattered like discarded toys. Iron chains abandoned in the dust, their links twisted and rusted, no longer binding anyone or anything.
The wind blew gently through the remains of the battle, rustling through the grass and carrying away the smell of smoke and blood. It was as if the land itself was taking a deep breath, finally able to relax after the tension of the fight.
The stone golems remained motionless, standing tall and proud amidst the wreckage. They didn't move, didn't speak, just stood there like ancient monuments, like mountains that had walked down from the peaks to stand in the valley. Their stone bodies glowed faintly in the sunlight, the cracks in their rock skin visible but not diminishing their immense power.
Claude, Lars, and Elbron watched from a distance, their eyes fixed on the scene before them. None of them spoke. They were still trying to process what they had seen, still trying to make sense of the impossible thing that had just happened.
A lycan…
giving orders to stone giants in a strange, ancient language.
A language that no one else had heard, but one that had moved the giants to rebellion, to freedom.
Byron walked slowly toward the largest of the golems, his steps steady and calm. Up close, the giants were even more imposing than they had seemed from a distance. Their bodies were massive, their height stretching far above any tree or building, their stone forms rough and weathered by time.
The giant's body was covered in cracks, thin lines that snaked across his rock skin like scars. Small fragments of rock fell to the ground every time he moved, tiny pieces of his being that broke off with even the slightest shift. It was clear that he was not whole, that something was wrong, that he was slowly falling apart.
Then the giant spoke.
His voice was deep, so deep that it felt like a vibration in the chest, a rumble that seemed to come from the very core of the earth. It was like two mountains rubbing against each other, their stone surfaces grinding together in a slow, ancient sound.
—Мы свободны… благодаря тебе.
(We are free… thanks to you.)
Byron listened attentively, his head tilted slightly as he caught every word. Then he turned to look at the others, his expression serious.
"He says… they are free because of us," he translated, his voice quiet but clear.
Claude raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. "You understand what they say?" he asked, his voice filled with wonder. "How is that possible? That language… it's unlike anything I've ever heard."
Byron didn't respond immediately. He just looked back at the giant, his gaze steady, as if there was a silent understanding between them that needed no words.
The golem continued speaking, his voice rolling through the valley like thunder.
—Но ты должен знать.
(But you must know something.)
Byron translated, his tone growing more serious. "He says there is something I need to know."
—Мы не единственные.
(We are not the only ones.)
Byron frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. "He says that… they are not the only ones."
Lars stepped forward, his boots crunching on the rocky ground as he moved closer. "The only ones what?" he asked, his voice eager and concerned. "The only stone giants?"
The giant answered, his voice slow and heavy.
—Есть другие рабы.
(There are other slaves.)
Byron spoke in a grave voice, repeating the words for the others to hear. "Other slaves."
Silence fell over the valley again, heavy and thick. The words hung in the air, carrying a weight that no one had expected. Other slaves. What did that mean? Who else was being held captive by the demons?
The golem kept talking, his voice filled with a sadness that seemed to seep from the stone itself.
—Когда-то мы были свободны.
(Once we were free.)
"Once they were free," Byron translated, his voice softening slightly.
—Мы жили в горах… рядом с чистой водой.
(We lived in the mountains… near pure water.)
"They lived in the mountains… near springs of pure water," Byron said, his eyes scanning the giant's cracked body as he spoke.
The giant slowly lifted one of his cracked arms, his stone fingers moving with difficulty.
—Вода сохраняет нас.
(Water keeps us together.)
Byron looked at the cracks running across the giant's torso, his expression growing understanding. "Water holds their bodies together," he said, his voice quiet. "It's what keeps them whole, what keeps their stone from falling apart."
Lars looked at the cracks with worry, his face pale as he realized the truth. "That's why they're breaking apart…" he murmured, his voice filled with concern. "Without the water, their bodies are falling apart."
The golem responded, his voice heavy with sorrow.
—Когда вода умирает… умираем и мы.
(When the water dies… we die too.)
Byron translated slowly, each word feeling like a blow to the heart. "When the water dies… they die too."
Claude narrowed his eyes, his gaze turning sharp as he put the pieces together. "The demons…" he said, his voice low and angry. "They did this, didn't they? They took away the water."
The giant continued, his voice growing more bitter.
—Они отравили источники.
(They poisoned the springs.)
"The demons contaminated the springs," Byron said, his voice tight with anger.
—Мы начали разрушаться.
(We began to crumble.)
"Their bodies started to crack," Byron translated, his eyes fixed on the giant's broken form.
—Многие умерли.
(Many died.)
"Many died."
The giant bowed his head slightly, the stone grinding as he moved, as if he was mourning the loss of his people.
—Они сказали… работайте.
(They said… work.)
"The demons said… work," Byron said, repeating the giant's words.
—И получите воду.
(And you will get water.)
"And you will receive water."
Lars spat on the ground, his face twisted in disgust and anger. "Damned demons," he growled, his voice filled with hatred. "Using their lives as leverage, making them slaves just to get a drop of water. That's cruel. That's unforgivable."
The giant concluded, his voice quiet but resolute.
—Мы подчинились… чтобы выжить.
(We obeyed… to survive.)
Byron spoke in a grave voice, his tone heavy with sympathy. "They obeyed… to survive."
Silence covered the valley once more, a silence filled with anger, sadness, and understanding. They knew now why the giants had been working for the demons, why they had been dragging the war machines, why they had fought. It wasn't by choice. It was for survival. It was for the water that kept them alive.
But the golem wasn't finished yet. His voice rang out again, deep and resonant, cutting through the quiet.
—Но мы знаем кое-что ещё.
(But we know something else.)
Byron listened carefully, his attention fully on the giant. Then he spoke to the others. "He says they know something else."
Claude crossed his arms, his expression curious and serious. "What is it?" he asked. "What else do they know?"
The giant looked toward the distant mountains, his glowing eyes fixed on the peaks that stretched out into the horizon.
—Мы уверены…
(We are sure…)
"They are sure…" Byron translated.
—Мы не единственные.
(We are not the only ones.)
Byron lifted his gaze, his eyes meeting those of his friends. "That they are not the only ones."
Lars frowned, his brow furrowed in confusion. "The only ones what?" he asked again, his voice urgent. "What are you talking about?"
The giant continued, his voice slow and deliberate.
—Есть другие народы…
(There are other peoples…)
"There are other peoples," Byron said.
He paused for a moment, letting the words sink in, before adding the next part.
—Другие рабы.
(Other slaves.)
A heavy silence fell over everyone, a silence that felt like a weight on their shoulders. Other slaves. Other peoples being held captive, being forced to work, being abused by the demons. It was a terrifying thought, one that opened up a whole new world of suffering and injustice.
Claude spoke in a low voice, his tone filled with disbelief and anger. "Are you saying that the demons do this to other races? That they enslave other peoples, just like they enslaved the giants?"
The golem answered, his voice steady.
—Мы слышали их разговоры.
(We heard their conversations.)
"They heard the demons talking," Byron translated.
—Они делают это повсюду.
(They do it everywhere.)
Byron finished the sentence, his voice grave. "They do it everywhere."
Even Elbron remained silent, his usual sharp expression softening into something like shock. His eyes lost themselves in the mountains, as if he was seeing something far away, something that he had never imagined before. The idea that the demons were spreading their cruelty across the land, enslaving every race they could find… it was a thought that chilled even him.
Byron looked at the giant again, his expression determined. Then he spoke in the strange, ancient language, his voice clear and strong.
—Иди за мной.
(Follow me.)
The giant's stone eyes brightened, the glow within them growing stronger, as if he had been waiting for these words.
Byron continued, his voice warm and inviting.
—Ты и твой народ.
(You and your people.)
The wind blew through the valley, carrying the scent of pine and rock, as if it was carrying a message of hope.
—Есть место…
(There is a place…)
Byron looked toward the horizon, toward the direction of Luparia, his eyes filled with promise.
—Где никто не заставит вас сражаться в войнах, которых вы не хотите.
(Where no one will force you to fight wars you do not want.)
The giant slowly bowed his massive head, the stone grinding as he moved, a sign of acceptance and gratitude.
—Мы пойдём.
(We will go.)
Then he lifted both arms toward the sky, his massive hands reaching up as if to touch the clouds. And he let out a deep roar, a sound that was not of anger or pain, but of calling. It was a loud, resonant sound that echoed through the valley and rolled up into the mountains, traveling far and wide.
The echo swept through the mountains, bouncing off the peaks and valleys, reaching places that no one could see.
Claude frowned, his head tilted as he listened to the sound. "What is he doing?" he asked, his voice curious.
Elbron answered calmly, his eyes fixed on the giant. "He's calling his people."
Then it happened.
First, there was a small tremor, a slight shake of the ground that was barely noticeable. Then another, stronger this time. And then the earth began to vibrate, a steady, rhythmic shaking that grew more and more intense with every second.
From the slopes of the mountains, huge rocks began to roll down, tumbling toward the valley.
Lars's eyes widened in surprise, his mouth falling open. "By the mountains…" he whispered, his voice filled with awe.
But the rocks weren't falling. They were rising.
Giant blocks of stone began to move, separating from the mountain sides, lifting up into the air. Huge pieces of rock joined together, fitting into place like pieces of a giant puzzle. Bodies of stone emerged from the mountain, forming arms, legs, heads, torsos.
More golems.
Dozens of them.
Then more.
Hundreds of stone giants walked down from the mountains, their steps heavy and sure, responding to the call of their leader. They moved toward the valley, their stone forms glowing in the sunlight, their numbers filling the landscape until it seemed as if the mountains themselves were walking down to join them.
Claude exhaled slowly, his breath coming out in a long, quiet sigh. "An entire people…" he murmured, his voice filled with wonder. "An entire race of stone giants, all coming together."
Byron watched the scene with calmness, a soft smile appearing on his face as he saw the giants gathering. It was a sight of beauty and power, a sign of hope in a world that had been filled with darkness.
Then he spoke again in the ancient language, his voice clear and strong.
—Пойдём.
(Let's go.)
He looked toward the horizon, toward the home that awaited them.
—Ваш новый дом ждёт вас.
(Your new home awaits you.)
The giants began to move, their steps slow but steady, their bodies moving as one. And for the first time in centuries…
they were not walking as slaves.
They were not walking in chains, or under the threat of death.
They were walking as a free people.
They were walking home.